


Razzle Dazzle

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Swapping, Come play, Docking, Established Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, Exhibitionism, Foreskin Play, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Public Sex, Sciles, Skittles, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2535323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What if someone sees us?<br/>Instead of slowing him down, the thought merely encourages Stiles.  Scott instantly regrets saying anything, really he does.<br/>“That’s the fun of it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Razzle Dazzle

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done a fic with much of an exhibitionism kink so I decided now was as good a time as any to give it a whirl. This is new territory for me so let me know how I did, alright? And yes, the title is from Chicago but hey, that's what it's all about - show and performance.

For a bus full of high school boys, it’s awfully quiet.

          Nearly midnight California sky rolls by in dark solidarity, cloudless as can be with just a sliver of moon bathing the dark navy seats and their occupants a luminescent silver, sliding over pulled up hoods and closed eyes, over and over again as it disappears behind trees along the highway.

          Not even Coach Finstock’s making any noise.

          They’d had an away game, four hours from Beacon Hills because for the first time in years they’d made play offs, only to be knocked out in the first round.  To some, a great loss but for most of the team a relief – it was getting colder and colder with each passing practice.  Even Finstock’s seemingly endless supply of shouting and energy was starting to wane.

          In the very last seat at the back of the bus, Stiles and Scott are slouched together, bent over Stiles’ iPod and watching The Empire Strikes Back.  They’ve been watching Star Wars on and off for the last week now, Scott doing a remarkable job of keeping up in spite of the stop/start way they’ve been viewing.  Right now they’re watching Darth Vader call out to Luke on the _Millennium Falcon,_ telling him that it’s his destiny to join him and rule the Empire.

          Scott’s actually quite absorbed too, in spite of the fact that he still thinks the whole thing is rather cheesy.

          Stiles just likes having Scott close – the movie’s simply the icing on the cake.

          They’re sitting in a way they’ve perfected over the years, modified once they made the transition from friends to lovers during freshman year. Stiles is sitting higher and on the aisle side, his arm around Scott’s back and resting with his hand under his shirt, fingers splayed over Scott’s ribcage.  They’re warm against Scott’s skin, doing a very good job of keeping off the chill in the air, in spite of sweatpants and a jacket.  Scott has his arm above Stiles’, bent at the elbow so he can rest his hand on the back of Stiles’ head or the back of his neck.  It’s comfortable and familiar and Stiles would trade every lacrosse game they’ve ever won for more Scott time.

          Scott’s hums softly as Stiles traces a couple lazy figure into his skin, the soft cotton of t-shirt brushing against his knuckles as he does so.  It’s relaxing for both of them, even though neither of them could be more relaxed if they tried.  All the same Scott stays focused on the movie until the credits roll, taking out the earbud he was sharing and stretching his arms, settling them back to where they were after they’ve finished.

          “I liked that one the best so far,” Scott whispers.

          Even in the dark Scott can see the huge grin that Stiles flashes him.

          “See, this is why I’m your best friend, Scott – it’s your impeccable taste.”

          “And boyfriend,” Scott provides.

          “Couldn’t forget that part even if you paid me.  But even then I’d just pretend so we could have money and do stuff.”  Stiles shifts around so that he’s sort of turned towards Scott, the hand not occupying the space under Scott’s shirt coming up to brush Scott’s cheek.

          “What sort of stuff?”

          “Laser tag.  Movies.  Romantic outings where we make great big moony eyes at each other and then make love to the sound of choirs and harps afterwards.”  Stiles bats his eyes exaggeratedly at Scott, prompting and eyeroll and smile that Scott doesn’t try to contain.

          “I kick your ass at laser tag anyway.”  Scott brings Stiles head forward, kissing him on the lips.

          “Nuh uh.”  Stiles doesn’t lose on purpose he just… chooses to hold back his skill so that Scott can feel better about himself.

          “You’re the one who started the whole ‘loser has to give the other a blowjob thing’ anyway.”

          “And I like sucking your dick.  Just a perk of holding back on you.”  Stiles is sure of his reasoning – and he’s never once heard Scott complain about post laser tag blowies anyway.

          “Your justifications are so weird.”  Scott kisses him again, this time lingering a bit and cupping Stiles’ chin with his fingers.

          “You’re weird,” Stiles murmurs back.  Scott’s only reply is to hum an assent, closing his eyes as he really kisses Stiles this time, tongue swiping along Stiles lips, yes please, come on in and Stiles pulls him closer at the same time.  He’s not kissed Stiles since before the game, too many hours ago and he wants to make up for it.  Kissing Stiles is just part of his daily self-health routine and when he goes without, well, it sucks.

          Stiles sits them up a little more via hooking his foot around Scott’s ankle, using the leverage so that they’re on more equal ground.  Scott groans when Stiles pushes him back into the space below the window, opening an eye to make sure no one’s watching – not a soul, even though Danny and Jackson are right across from them.

          Scott cocks out one leg as best he can, letting Stiles settle between them as best as he can, given their very cramped circumstances.  Sweatpants, Scott finds, are absolutely terrible at concealing boners and he’s definitely starting to get one.  Not that it’s unusual, given Stiles’ up close and personal proximity, that and they’re still seventeen years old and boners are induced by the breeze blowing the correct way.

          Stiles grinds into him a little, taking Scott’s bottom lip between his teeth and pulling.  It’s a cheap shot but it makes Scott see stars behind his eyelids all the same, most of them Stiles shaped.  They’re lovely, an ever changing constellation that turns real when he opens his eyes and Stiles is _there,_ real and tangible his. 

          “Hey.”  Stiles mouths at Scott’s jaw, sliding his hands under Scott’s shirt and jacket to touch as much of Scott as he can.

          “Hey.”  Scott says it all slow and sexy, responding in kind by putting his hands on Stiles’ back and dragging his fingernails down his spine.  Stiles shivers, rutting against Scott without really meaning to.

          “You know what that does, Scott.”  Stiles’ voice carries a dark tint of want in it that Scott’s body responds to immediately.

          “And it’s been a fucking week, babe.”  It’s true – circumstance has kept them apart for anything more than aborted dry humping and Scott’s jacked off in the meantime until his cock was almost raw – something about October turning to November makes him restless and horny – and Stiles manages to amplify that simply by existing.

          “I know, Scotty.  Can’t tell you how much time’s been spent beating it.  Dad’s starting to think I have a problem.”  Stiles gives a short huff of a laugh and bites his lip to keep from moaning when Scott’s fingers brush over his nipples – damned things get hard when Scott so much as shoots him a dirty in the fun way look.  And they’re sensitive, because the universe likes to point out the obvious spots to Scott.

          Or at least that’s Stiles’ working theory.

          “You do have problems.”

          “Shut up.” Stiles smiles anyway.

          Scott’s rock hard by this point, and Stiles knows it.  There’s this look in his eyes that Scott’s seen too many times before – that “I have an idea and it may not work but I’m gonna do it anyway” look. 

          “Stiles…”

          Stiles’ hand goes lower and lower down Scott’s front.  “Yeah?”

          “We’re still on the bus, you know.”  Scott wants to say no but it’s Stiles and his hand is near his crotch and it’s affecting his judgment in a very, very disconcerting way.  There needs to be a warning sign attached to Stiles, something along the lines of “unable to resist.”

          “And your point is?”

          “What if someone sees us?  
          Instead of slowing him down, the thought merely encourages Stiles.  Scott instantly regrets saying anything, really he does.

          “That’s the fun of it.”  Stiles kisses him again, yet again clouding Scott’s mind with hazy lust and making him abandon his train of thought on the side of the tracks.

          Damn it.

          Scott pushes Stiles back just enough to catch a breath.  “We can’t be that far from home.”

          “And do you really want to wait that long or get you off and then lick your spunk off my fingers?  ‘Cause those are your options right now.  Our options.  Whatever.”

          Scott’s dick agreed before Stiles had even finished.

          Scott followed mostly willingly.

          “Hands only.  We may have to zip up quick.”

          “That’s the beauty of sweatpants Scotty, easy on, easy off.”  Stiles slides Scott’s down just past his cock, tucking the waistband under his balls.  He licks his lips at the sight, Scott laying thick against his belly, precome silvery in the reflected moonlight.

          “Hands. Only.”

          Stiles looks up at Scott, mouth open as he kisses him hard enough to almost make Scott bang his head against the window, grabbing Scott’s cock at the same time.  He slides Scott’s foreskin down, circling the head with his thumb and smearing his pre around until the whole head is coated and sticky with it, nice and slippery now so that Stiles can work his magic.

          “It’s so fucking hot when you get really wet all quick like that.”  Stiles can’t resist a taste, brings his thumb to his lips and licks it clean.  Scott watches transfixed, breath hot against Stiles’ face.

          “You’re so fucking mean.”  Scott’s brain finally kicks into gear and he pulls Stiles back in so that their bodies are pressed together, working the front of Stiles’ sweatpants down so that his cock’s out as well.

          “I know.  But only because I love you.”

          “That sounds like domestic abuse.”

          Stiles has a witticism to retort with but it never makes it past the planning stages, Scott taking him in hand and tugging forward, Stiles’ foreskin bunching up between Scott’s thumb and forefinger, precome streaking the pale pink head when Scott pulls back.

          “Do that again? Please?”  Stiles resumes stroking Scott, just in case it gets the reciprocation going a little faster.

          “Was planning on it.”  Scott gets his non-dick occupied hand on the back of Stiles head, kissing him slow and melting, knowing it’s the fastest way to the Stiles Stilinski orgasm, like fire being pushed slowly through his veins and into his blood, warm from head to toe and it’s too much, between that and the fact that literally all Jackson has to do is open his eyes and he’ll see them crossing swords.

          It makes Stiles really, really wet.

          Scott feels the sudden blurt of precome on his fingers, drags his next motion out so that he coats as much of Stiles’ cock as possible.  Stiles whimpers, not quite soft enough to be mistaken for a sleep sound – which Scott really hopes everyone else is right now.  Well, mostly he does.  If they’re caught, so be it – he’s got a lap full of Stiles right now.  Make that a very handsy, horny Stiles.

          “Speak for yourself, babe.”

          “I blame no one but you.”  Stiles says it all wrecked and sexy, body shuddering as Scott’s grip tightens around the head of his cock.  Scott takes the advantage and plunges his tongue into Stiles’ open mouth, tracing an “s” on the roof and that undoes Stiles completely, orgasm rushing forward and Scott manages to pull his shirt up just in time so that Stiles shoots on his belly, eyes screwed shut so tight it hurts.

          Once Stiles finishes he looks at Scott, still hard and thick in Stiles’ hand, he gives him this look that if Scott was capable of melting, he would.

          “I didn’t know that would… do that.”  Stiles gestures to the come dripping down Scott’s chest.

          “Well I wanted to see if that whole ‘lick it and it’s yours’ thing worked.”  Scott grins, dimples showing even in the moonlight.

          “Ass,” Stiles says before leaning in for a kiss.  He draws Scott’s foreskin all the way down and rubs his thumb really fast over his frenulum as he just barely moves the rest of his fingers, tight grip making it seem a lot faster than it actually is and it makes Scott blow, his come shooting high and hitting Stiles in the throat and chin, soaking them both and Scott’s orgasms are normally messy but this one’s especially so.

          Stiles fucking _loves_ it.

          True to his promise he licks his fingers clean of Scott’s spunk, keeping it in his mouth before he leans forward, Scott’s mouth open before they even meet in the middle and Stiles pushes in with his tongue, Scott sucking it off of Stiles’ tongue greedily, cheeks burning hot with still there arousal and the fact they’re swapping spunk in the back of the fucking bus.

          It’s a rush like Scott’s not felt before.

          Scott kisses Stiles hard, careful to not make them any more messy than they already are, only parting when the bus jolts from a particularly rough bump in the rode, causing Stiles to nearly fall backwards into the aisle.  Scott grabs him and puts him back in his lap, resting his hands on Stiles’ hips.

          “You’re a terrible influence, you know that right?”  Scott nuzzles Stiles neck, still holding his shirt up with one hand.

          “If I wasn’t, you’d have never had any fun up til now.”  Stiles rubs noses back, smiling when Scott kisses the tip of his.

          “I would have.”

          “Liar.”

          Scott reaches for his bag, kicked under the seat and he finds his towel, wiping himself and Stiles off as best as he can.  Once cleaned up Stiles settles back into Scott’s side, closing his eyes and burying his nose in the shoulder of Scott’s sweatshirt.

          “Can I stay with you tonight?”

          “I’d like that.”  Scott kisses Stiles’ temple, his boyfriend wriggling closer and in spite of the rumble of highway underneath them, falls asleep with Scott’s arm around him and without a care in the world.

___

          There’s a perfunctory shower to wash the smell of bus and stale sweat from their bodies after they get home, Melissa giving both of them a hug as they ascend, having been up waiting for her boys to come home, proud of them even if they didn’t win.  Scott makes a mighty effort to clean himself up but that orgasm earlier still has his brain addled with impure thoughts that he’s too tired to do anything with so their shower is mostly Scott hugged around Stiles’ neck, nuzzling his pale, wet skin and Stiles enjoying the solid, warm weight of his actual puppy of a boyfriend leaning against his body.  Stiles is also really proud that he’s reduced Scott to hazy blissful state for so long – normally he’s the one to get like that after sex, not Scott.

          They don’t even bother with underwear, drying off each other in between kisses that don’t necessarily meet their mark due to sleepiness and Stiles gets into bed first, his arms making a welcoming cradle for Scott and within minutes they’re asleep, Scott’s face buried in Stiles neck and inhaling the scent of Old Spice and warm boyfriend.

          Sleep is blissfully dreamless and Scott doesn’t move once, passed out to the point of oblivion and it’s the fact that his arms are asleep that wakes Stiles up sometime around midmorning.  Scott’s snoring softly, his breath huffing warm against his neck and face.  Stiles would love to keep him right where he is but he seriously can’t feel his arms and he really, really has to pee.

          It’s probably a violation against the laws of the universe to disrupt his boyfriend’s slumber, especially when said boyfriend looks the very definition of adorable but nature is simply too powerful to resist.  As gently as he can, Stiles wriggles away from Scott, sliding out of bed onto the floor, landing in a non-cluttered patch of carpet and holding his morning wood in one hand as he treks to the bathroom, absently observing that he’s still naked.

          Oh well.

          Nudging the door shut with his foot he relieves himself, sighing happily and when he’s finished he realizes that yes, he’s horny.  Very, very horny.  And hey, he’s already naked so that saves him an extra thirty seconds.  The only question is if Scott’s horny too. 

          Stiles opens the door of the bathroom, taking a moment to observe Scott.  The blankets have fallen from his body towards his waist, half of Scott’s ass on display for the world to see and it’s just then that Stiles has one mission – to eat his boyfriend out. 

          The door to the bedroom is halfway open, and Melissa’s definitely home, if the sound of pop music and the smell of coffee wafting up from downstairs is anything to go by. 

          This means that they can definitely continue with their little experiment from the night before, and the fact that they’re a lot more likely to be caught only serves to make Stiles harder than hard.  He tiptoes his way back over to the bed, finishing pushing the cover off of Scott’s body and right as he’s about to roll Scott over onto his belly and set to work, Scott groans.

          “Dude – I can’t move.”  Scott’s voice is creaky from disuse and it only makes him sound that much sexier.

          Stiles is a little concerned, though, given that Scott doesn’t exactly toss that particular phrase around much.  “What hurts?”

          “Where that guy collided with me yesterday – my back.”  Scott’s definitely not faking – Stiles saw that hit and was almost positive he heard someone’s bone crunch and now that Stiles is paying attention to Scott’s back, there sure is a great big bruise down one side. 

          “I think I know how to fix that.  May I?”

          “Yeah, of course.  Just be gentle, alright?”

          Stiles leans down and drops a few kisses along Scott’s neck, feeling more than seeing Scott smile as a result.  “Always, Scotty.”  Stiles treats Scott like glass as he eases him over onto his belly, able to feel quite clearly how stiff Scott is as he does.  The bruise doesn’t look like anything worse than what Scott’s sustained on the field before but all the same he knows it doesn’t feel good.  Stiles very, very gently runs his fingers over it, Scott’s breath hitching a little as he’s tender and Stiles’ touch is like a shot to the heart.

          “Okay?”  Scott nearly misses Stiles asking the question.

          “Yeah.”  Scott shuts his eyes and lays flat as Stiles straddles his thighs.  He’s still sleep warm and it feels really, really good.

          Stiles starts up at Scott’s shoulders, laying his hands on Scott’s body just as gently as he was being a moment ago, starting with circles that grow and shrink as he goes.  Scott starts to loosen up after a few minutes, barely even breathing as Stiles rubs him down, occasionally massaging a little harder when he feels the hard knots in Scott’s muscles.  Scott whimpers a little when he feels them get rubbed out, his body shifting against Stiles’ still hard dick and making it awfully hard to concentrate on massaging the ache from Scott’s body.

          “Stiles?”  Scott turns his head to the side, trying his best to look back at his boyfriend.

          “Yeah?”

          “Are you hard?”

          Stiles rather shamelessly ruts his cock against Scott’s butt.  “Affirmative.”

          Scott reaches back and grabs a hold of Stiles, stroking his dick as best he can.  “Good.”

          It’s an awkward feeling, like when he jacks off with his left hand, but it’s also really hot to watch Scott touch him like this  - especially with the hint of a devious smile that’s curling his lips.

          “C’mere,” Scott whispers without taking his hand of Stiles.

          Stiles leans down, Scott’s other hand cupping the back of his head to pull him close, leaning up slightly so that Stiles doesn’t have to bend so far.  “I want you to eat me out and then fuck me, just like this.”

          “Do…” Stiles swallows, his throat having gone drier than his Dad’s sense of humor. (Bad comparison Stilinski, do _not_ think about your when rimming your boyfriend is in the cards.)  “Do you want me to shut the door first?”

          Scott thinks about it for a moment, still cumbersomely stroking Stiles’ cock.  “No.”

          _Fuck._

          “You’re positive, yes?  Because I don’t want to risk your mother’s wrath should she come up here.” He totally does though, just that Stiles feels obligated to give Scott the chance to change his mind anyway.

          “You said it yourself last night, Stiles – the risk is kind of hot.”

          Stiles, on occasion, does create a monster and he’s pretty sure this is one of them.  It has to be and it’s the worst kind because the ones that are the most dangerous are the ones Scott goes along with.  Just that this particular monster is in the shape of a gift horse and he doesn’t dare look it in the mouth, not yet anyway.

          “Stiles?”

          “I’m here.”

          Scott wiggles his ass in invitation. “Care to help a bro out now?”

          “Can do, Scotty.” Stiles steals a quick kiss, one that tastes like stale toothpaste and morning breath but hey, that’s love, and Stiles has all of it to give for Scott.  He’s sad to leave Scott’s strangely erotic stroking him from behind but that’s alright, really it is, due to the fact that Scott’s ass is on Stiles’ Unofficial Seven Wonders Of The World list, definitely near the top right behind Scott himself because hey, they deserve two different places.  Come to think of it, most of the things on that list are Scott related…

          Stiles drops honey sweet kisses down Scott’s spine because that’s a thing that Scott loves, unseen brushes of the lips because his whole body is one big erogenous zone and Stiles has explored that particular truth lots and lots of times now, dragging his fingernails in the wake of his mouth, still mindful of Scott’s bruise.  It’ll look cool in a week though, Stiles muses.  Like a battle scar and Stiles definitely digs the whole beat up pretty boy look – and it’s one that Scott wears extremely well.

          Scott’s never quite prepared for Stiles’ tongue getting up close and personal with that particular part of his body, in spite of the fact that Stiles has been eating him out since their first official date. (They’ve always been all or nothing and once they started dating it all came very, very fast and has been pulling them along ever since.)   It’s a world-shattering moment every time, Scott moaning into his pillow and Stiles hasn’t even gotten good and started yet.

          It’s not Stiles fault that Scott’s got such an edible butt, the main attraction being Scott’s light pink hole with this perfect little fringe of hair around it.  It’s not fair really, Scott being all smooth and pretty down there where as Stiles definitely has the hairy jungle ass crack thing going on. (Not that Scott’s ever once had anything bad to say about it.)  He starts out with a slow slick around the edge, teasing Scott gently.  Scott shudders, Stiles following it up with a breath of cold air right across heated skin.

          Yeah, Stiles is a complete junkie for sticking his tongue in Scott’s butt, to put it poetically. 

          “Stay quiet babe” Stiles chides, knowing that Scott heard him whether he’s really paying attention or not.  Stiles sticks out more of his tongue, using the front half to lick all the way up from Scott’s perineum to the top of his ass, slow as he goes and hell yes it’s good, given that Scott’s starting to make these little humping motions against the bed.  Stiles does that three more times, either faster or slower each one, looking up at Scott’s back and his bruise and his muscles and the general gorgeousness of his boyfriend literally laid out like a tan buffet before him.

          Stiles feels lucky, really, really lucky at times like this.

          “C’mon Stiles, _please_.”  Scott pushes his ass up in the air, making his cock drag against the bed, foreskin pulled back from where he was rubbing himself against it, precome sticky trail leading from the sheets to the end of dick.

          “I got you, Scott.”  Stiles kisses each cheek before grabbing hold of both and spreading, Scott open and presented to the world as big as you please.  Stiles takes a moment to admire the view, Scott’s skin the same color save for the tight furl that Stiles has every intention of loosening – it’s beautiful and alright, all seven things on Stiles’ list are just Scott and his various body parts.

          “Dude, quit looking at my ass and _fucking eat me out_.”  Scott growls the words, low enough so that only Stiles hears them.

          “I wasn’t looking – I was _admiring._   There’s a difference, jeez.”  Stiles can look all he wants too, dammit.  Scott said so, once upon a time.  (Stiles even made him write it down in a contract and he definitely still has that piece of paper somewhere.)

          Scott’s almost prepared with a retort when Stiles finally gives up all pretense of teasing and dives right in, licking hard and wet into Scott and it shuts down Scott’s thinking parts, pushing his ass back into Stiles’ face.  It gives Stiles tacit permission to let go of any inhibition and he gets messy with it, working up so much spit that it almost feels like lube being pushed into his body.

          Stiles tastes Scott opening up more than feeling him do so, hot-soft skin right under the tip of his tongue and he makes it his sole mission to get at as much of it as possible, holding Scott a little farther apart and pushing his face in, the end of his nose buried right above Scott’s hole.  He inhales the scent of Scott’s body, faded body wash and sleep sweat, warm and a little cloying but Stiles breathes it in deep and lets it fill him, tongue working and working and working, Scott at this point starting to thrash a little.

          “Stiles, babe, you gotta stop or I’m gonna come.”  Scott’s words carry truth, and Stiles has witnessed it more than once.  It’s all sorts of hot but it’s also been a week since he’s been inside Scott and that’s taking priority right now, especially seeing as how badly Scott wants Stiles to be inside him.

          “Want to use a condom?”  Stiles figures he should ask, just in case.  Scott and he have received the safe sex lecture more than once and if they’re caught it’s probably a better idea for them to at least take that precaution.  (Even though once they started barebacking they didn’t use protection for a month and it’s been sort of intermittent since – it was just that good.)

          Scott grudgingly moves to reach and open the top drawer of his nightstand, the box of condoms laying right there and he notices they only have a couple left.  (They pretend that Melissa’s not the one buying them and they just magically appear because she’s the sort of person who will provide them in spite of the fact that Scott’s repeatedly said he’s capable of buying his own.)  They’re just plain Trojans, Scott tearing one of the blue packets and handing it to Stiles, Stiles already having grabbed the lube they keep stashed under the bed.  He opens and rolls the condom on with one hand while pouring lube into the other, slicking Scott up with it all in one practiced motion. Stiles gives Scott a couple minute on his fingers, just long enough to where it’s not going to hurt when he pushes in – he and Scott have been doing this long enough to know how much time is enough.

          Scott tries to rock himself back, those fingers feeling awfully good inside him, better than anything he’s had for the last week.  Stiles makes it worth his while, fingers curling against his prostate, wiggling them back and forth while he gets himself as hard as he can.  Scott _mostly_ bites back another moan, the bed creaking as Stiles pulls out his fingers and lays himself over Scott’s back, keeping himself up on one hand while he slides home.

          “God, _Stiles_ ,” comes the confirmation that yes indeed Stiles is in the right place, extending he and Scott’s arms above Scott’s head and linking their fingers together.  Stiles’ mouth is right at the nape of Scott’s neck, breath a hot, wet pant against Scott’s skin. Stiles kisses him there, then moves down to Scott’s ear.

          “That feel good?,” Stiles asks as he starts thrusting, very quickly adding this to the list of positions that he wants to try again with him on the bottom.

          “Yes, fuck, you feel so fucking _big_ this way.”  Scott wraps his legs with Stiles’, pulling him in deeper.

          “Yeah?”  He and Scott are practically the same size but hey, he’s not going to knock the compliment.

          “Yeah.”  Scott turns his head more and Stiles kisses him as best he can, whimpering into Stiles’ mouth the more his body becomes accustomed to the new position.  It’s close and intimate and Stiles likes this so, so much better than doggy style, able to hold Scott close and get as deep as possible.

          They can’t actually move that much due to the fact they have to stay quiet but they make it work, Stiles using small, sharp thrusts that Scott meets him halfway for every time, sweat sticking them together like glue and it makes a sort of wet, sucking sound every time they unstick when Stiles pulls his hips back.  It also lend Stiles to hit Scott in the prostate dead on with every push of his hips, Scott’s dick trapped between his stomach and the bed and the friction alone is more than plenty to set him off.

          Scott comes after about ten minutes of Stiles driving into him, feeling himself get coated as he spurts all over the tiny gap between himself and the bed.  Stiles notices how Scott’s back bows and arches with climax, knowing that Scott came untouched pushing him over the edge like a runaway freight train and his knuckles are white as they grip Scott’s hands, teeth sunk into the nape of Scott’s neck as he blows.  It makes him see a heaven or six behind his eyelids, lasting forever until he sprawls on top of Scott, still inside him and very, very unwilling to move.

          “Stiles!”

          Shit.

          Stiles whips his head around, presented with one very, very mad looking, broom brandishing Melissa McCall (Scott definitely gets the terrifying looks from her, no mistake about it.)  Stiles turns red for a completely different reason, Scott flattening himself into the mattress and violently hoping he disappears.

          “Uh.. hey, Ms. McCall.”  Stiles is trying to cover up he and Scott’s nakedness but the covers have disappeared into some other dimension.

          “Off of him!”  Melissa hits Stiles with the broom, Stiles mostly getting yellow bristles across the ribs.  “NOW!”  Melissa swings again and Stiles rolls into the floor, landing flat on his ass with the condom dangling from the end of his dick.

          “Scotty, a little help?”  Stiles is looking for his clothes, all the while with Melissa doing a game job of not looking at them and still managing to get him with the broom a few times.  Damn, that woman can multitask. 

          “Scott McCall, put some damn clothes on.”  She launches into a string of probably not very nice things in Spanish, Scott scrambling like a very, very guilty puppy towards the clothesbasket  and tossing Stiles his dirty clothes from yesterday, at least getting sweatpants on before Melissa starts swinging again.

          It’s almost comical the way Stiles gets chased out of Scott’s bedroom, hurriedly pulling on clothes that probably aren’t even his as he dodges Melissa’s Broom of Divine Wrath, Scott knowing better than to try and hold her back lest he risk certain death.  Stiles manages to make it to his jeep without falling down the stairs in one piece, backing out as fast as he can and peeling away in a rush of speed that Scott sincerely doubts that vehicle has ever been done before.

          Scott hears his mom coming back up the stairs and he moves fast, closing the door and whipping the ruined sheet off of his bed, stuffing it in the hamper before he hides in the bathroom, hoping into the shower and yelping when he gets blasted with cold water.

          “You can’t hide in there forever,” Melissa threatens, definitely in his bedroom if not right inside the bathroom door.

          Scott tries his hardest all the same.

___

          Later that night (after a very, very awkward lecture from his dad about things he should try to not get caught doing) Stiles figures he had better do the least risky activity possible – homework.  He’s sitting at his computer and tapping away at a self-proclaimed masterpiece of a paper on the economics of late Imperial Russia when his Skype icon flashes with a new message.

          _Can you talk for a minute?_ It’s from Scott.

          _Yeah, face to face or just here?_

_Face to face.  I don’t have long._

A minute later Stiles’ screen is filled with Scott’s face, reading glasses perched on his nose and wearing a sweatshirt.

          “Sorry I couldn’t stay and cuddle earlier but I think she was determined to kill me.”  Stiles wants to grin but given the circumstances he decides against it.

          “Yeah, she’s still mad.  Like madder than when I lost the keys to her car mad.”

          “Dude, ouch.”  Stiles’ sympathy is genuine because that had been a rough time for everyone.

          “And I’m grounded for a week.  Unless I’m at school or work the keys to my bike belong to her.”

          “And that’s such a shame because you look extremely bangable on it.”  It’s true – Stiles has pictures. 

          Scott rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “What about you?”

          “Dad must have heard the news before I even got home and we had a very, very serious father-son discussion about things I shouldn’t do with the door open or when certain people are home.  And I got to detail his patrol car.  I’ll also be doing the same for the others every day after school this week.”  Truly a sentence worse than death, considering that some of the deputies tend to not be the cleanest folks when it comes to the upkeep of government vehicles.

          “That sucks, bigtime.”  Scott looks at Stiles through the screen, lips forming a sympathetic smile.

          “I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.”  Stiles says it so softly that Scott almost doesn’t hear them.

          “No worries babe.  It’s not like they don’t know we do it, I just don’t think they want to necessarily acknowledge it.  Openly, that is.”

          Stiles laughs.  “We can’t do that sort of thing at home then, the whole keeping the door open or whatever.  Next time we put a dresser in front of the door and hide your mom’s broom.”

          “How hard did she hit you anyway?”

          “Hard enough to let me know she was serious.”

          Scott giggles.

          “It hurt!”

          “You looked really cute trying to get dressed and hop down the stairs at the same time.  That’s Tom and Jerry level stuff.”

          Stiles looks slightly offended – or at least pretends to.  “Which one of us is Tom?”

          “I think it changes.”

          “Nuh uh.”

          “Yes huh.”

          Stiles glowers and Scott gives him a disarming smile, dimples and everything.  “You can put that million watt grin away, I’m not in the least bit mad at you.”

          “Grounded or not, that was still some awesome sex.”  Scott’s been glowing from that since Stiles’ very hasty exit earlier.

          Stiles’ look of mock hurt instantly fades.  “We’re definitely doing it like that again.  Except next time I’m on bottom.”

          “We’ll have to flip for it because holy shit I still taste your dick in the back of my throat.”  Scott winks at him, making Stiles feel all gooey and warm inside.

          “All the same I want to try it from the other side at least once.”  Stiles almost shows Scott his dick but then he hears the sheriff coming up the stairs.

          “I gotta go.  See you Monday before school?”  
          “I’ll try.  I love you, Stiles.”  Scott blows him a kiss and looks rather hurt that Stiles has to leave.

          “Love you too, Scotty.”  Stiles exaggerates catching the kiss and putting it over his heart.

          When the sheriff ducks his head in the door, Stiles is narrating his own thoughts on the Romanovs and their lavish spending out loud.

___

          The next week drags by really, really slowly and the kisses they sneak in the hallway and the furtive and mostly aborted rubbing off against each other in the bathroom stall at the end of the day before they have to part company is absolute torture, so Stiles proceeds to make himself as vocal about his punishment as possible, groaning loudly every time the Sheriff comes outside to check on his progress with cleaning up the various Crown Victorias and Chargers that the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department employs.  Of course he ignores Stiles, simply commenting on spots that Stiles has missed and leaving him to his task.

          He’s learned his lesson, really he has. 

          It’s Saturday and instead of waiting for the Sheriff to take him to headquarters he gets up and heads there himself after breakfast, intent on finishing before sunset on the off chance that he’ll get to see Scott before then.  It’s one thing to make him clean patrol cars but it’s something entirely different to rip out the other half of his soul and not let him see Scott for an entire week, a theme Stiles has variated on all week to an ever patient (and silent) Sheriff.  It’s maddening and Stiles has resigned himself to the fact that his life sucks complete balls, and definitely not in the fun way that involve Scott’s in his mouth.

          He’s on his second car when he hears the pop pop pop of a motorcycle, hauling himself up out of the backseat and there’s Scott, smile as bright as the sun on his face and looking unfairly hot astride his bike.

          “Need a hand?”  Scott shuts the engine off and swings his leg over the handlebars, moving the kickstand down with one foot as he takes off his riding jacket and drapes it over the seat, all the while rocking the whole windblown and sexy look.

          “Do I have to answer that question appropriately?”  Stiles sits down his hand vacuum on the hood and puts his arms around Scott’s body, feeling his heart thud loudly in his chest because Scott makes it do that sometimes.

          “No, you don’t.”  Scott kisses him and this time it’s a real, honest to God, tongue in mouth kiss, bending Stiles backwards a little and feeling pretty sure that Stiles swoons a bit.

          When they break apart Stiles looks giddy.  “That didn’t help my situation in the least, you know.”

          “And that situation is…”

          “Um, desperately horny and in serious need of some one on one time but I can’t because I have to finish this.”  On the last work Stiles gestures to the row of police cruisers, all of them in need of a good cleaning, Stiles suspecting that his dad told his deputies to get them dirty.

          “Which is why I’m here to help.”

          “I thought you were still grounded.”

          “Apparently I looked so miserable Mom decided to end my sentence early.  It’s not like I was trying or anything…”

          “Bullshit.”

          “Come on dude, I look adorable when I’m sad.”

          “You do.”

          Scott kisses Stiles again, not as long but just as intense.  “What do you say that after this we get cleaned up, grab something to eat, and play laser tag.  I still have that free pass from last time for a game.”

          “Blowjobs afterward?”  Stiles nods as he says the words.

          “Or during.  Who knows Stiles, who knows…”

          Stiles can work with that.

___

          It doesn’t take them nearly as long as Stiles thought it would to finish the job, in spite of the fact that Scott’s t-shirt ends up sticking to him with sweat and it keeps riding up and Stiles’ eyes are drawn down to his ass – he only gets smacked once for groping, and it wasn’t even that hard.  Scott’s clearly jonesing for it too, given that after they finish each car he spends a full minute engaging in play off level tonsil hockey with Stiles, leaving Stiles more and more breathless every time.

          It’s completely unfair and it makes Stiles decidedly not concentrate on cleaning but it’s also a really, really awesome distraction, especially with the promise of Scott’s mouth going other places later.

          Stiles follows Scott home with the intentions of showering with him before they go out but he’s deterred by the sight of a broom wielding Melissa on the front porch, Stiles waving meekly and Scott gives him a shrug, leaning through the window of Stiles jeep and telling him he’ll be read in twenty minutes, chastely pecking Stiles on the lips and then beating it into the house, Melissa making and “I’m watching you” sort of motion and Stiles double checks his rear mirror to make sure she hasn’t teleported into the back somehow before he leaves.

          Stiles is back fifteen minutes later, having scrubbed himself as quickly as he could and even putting on a little cologne.  Scott comes out of the house two minutes after he pulls up, wearing black jeans and a collared shirt that hug his body so well that Stiles is actually jealous of denim and cotton for a moment.  He’s smiling before he even opens his door and Stiles unbuckles so that he can lean over more comfortably to kiss him.  Scott tastes _and_ smells good, a combination that Stiles has deemed to be on the list of dangerous things that should never be brought out in public.

          “You look…”  Stiles feels like incredible isn’t anywhere close to being a decent adjective.

          “Like I actually give a damn tonight?”

          “Dude, give yourself a little more credit.” 

          “Hey, I only dress up for boys that I like as more than just friends.”  Scott kisses Stiles’ neck, making Stiles accidentally blow the horn when his hand slips.

          “And how many is that?”

          “Just one.”  Scott nips at his jaw, making Stiles consider offering himself up to Scott right there in the driveway.

          “You know what they say, uh, a lot easier to… to… what were we talking about?”  Scott’s nibbling on his ear and making it awfully hard to form coherent thoughts.

          Scott does decide to have some mercy and leans back, replacing his lips with his hand on Stiles’ knee.  “Ready to go?”

          “Ready to go?” Stiles mocks – like he’s not all hot and bothered now and Scott’s just sitting there happy as you please like nothing’s happened.

          “I love you, sweetest Stiles of mine.”  Scott makes exaggerated kissing noises and bats his eyelashes, earning himself a positively disgusted sounding snort. 

          Mission accomplished.

          There aren’t a ton of cars at the laser tag arcade but it’s certainly enough – and it turns Stiles on all the more.  He eases into a space and then grabs Scott to kiss back some of that business he’d given him in the driveway, Scott taken by surprise but he gets with it really fast, kissing Stiles back with fervor.  Stiles is all for just bumping and grinding in the car but he also doesn’t want to be caught out here.  Besides, there’s pizza inside and Scott _did_ promise food before laser tag.

          Scott breaks the kiss and cups Stiles’ face.  “Are you done?”

          “For now.”

          “Good.  Now c’mon, I see Allison’s car, which means Lydia’s here.  Think we can take ‘em?”

          Stiles is still kind of sitting there looking happy and dazed from that world altering kiss, letting Scott pull him out the driver’s side absently putting his keys in his pocket.

          Allison and Lydia are indeed there, sharing a cotton candy when Scott and Stiles walk in hand in hand and sit down at their table.

          “Ladies.”  Stiles has recovered by now, slinging his arm around Scott’s shoulder as if to say “look how incredibly my boyfriend looks tonight.”

          “Scott, Stiles.  Here for laser tag?”  Allison leans in closer to Lydia, mirroring Stiles.

          “Of course, and for other things.  Like maybe getting on _ow!”_ Scott elbows Stiles in the ribs, cutting off his lascivious tirade before he can scar their friends any further.

          “And dinner.  Is the pizza good tonight?”  Scott doesn’t wait for an answer, dragging a still muttering about sharp elbows and going easy on the goods Stiles up to the food counter.

          Scott orders pepperoni and sausage and fixes Stiles with a glare.  “I understand that you like to brag but the point is to do it to where we _can_ be seen, not let people know in advance.”

          Stiles doesn’t even have the graciousness to look as if he’s done anything wrong.  “I know that.”

          Scott worries sometimes and this is exactly why.

          They take over Allison and Lydia’s table once they get their food, its previous occupants having moved on.  They split the pizza down the middle, the cheese way too hot but they’re hungry from cleaning patrol cars all day, inhaling it like it’s the best thing they’ve ever tasted.  It’s not the best pizza they’ve ever had but right now it’s divine.  Not to mention the kisses they share in between slices because Stiles likes to taste Scott no matter what and besides, they’re on a date.  An actual legitimate date.

          “How long’s it been since we went on a date?” Stiles asks between bites of his third slice.

          “A month?  More actually?”  Scott looks off to his left, trying to remember.  “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

          “We need to start doing this more again. I like doing this sort of thing, you know.”

          “Me too, Stiles, but it’s a matter of time.”

          “Not anymore – lacrosse is over.”

          “It is, isn’t it?”

          “So does that mean we can bring back our standing Friday night obligatory make out and movie thing again?”

          “We’ve never actually finished a movie during one of those.”

          “Can you blame me?”  Stiles thinks Scott’s mouth is far more entertaining than most any gem of the silver screen.

          “That’s why it’s taken so long for me to see Star Wars, you know.”

          “It makes me horny, what do you want me to do?” 

          Scott would say something, if had a reply.  Honestly, he doesn’t have a follow up to that revelation.

          “Stop looking at me like I just grew a dick out of my forehead.”

          “I love you, Stiles.”  Scott grins and goes back to his pizza.

          That’ll work.

          Allison and Lydia are just ahead of them when they finish up their pizza and get their laser tag gear, apparently already having arranged them into teams with the idea of “kicking their ass out to the curb.”  Stiles isn’t going to let them win, of course, but there’s also something else lurking at the back of his mind.  The third part of Scott’s plan for a perfect evening. 

          Blowjobs.

          As much as Stiles wants to wait until they get home to do such things there’s also that heavy tug of want to engage here, out where people can see them – what if Allison walked up on him with Scott’s dick in his mouth?  There’s a certain amount of jealousy when it comes to Scott and Allison on Stiles’ part, as Allison was Scott’s first crush.  Sure Lydia had been Stiles’ but this was all before they figured out that it was each other they wanted the most – but Scott still sometimes looks at Allison like she hung the moon and it’s not enough of a problem to make a fuss over but it still makes something clench tight and ugly in Stiles’ stomach.

          Scott notices Stiles sort of standing their looking the slightest bit angry about something and moves so that he’s standing right in front of him.  Scott knows what it is, even if Stiles doesn’t actually think he does.  They’ve known each other since sandbox days – he’s got reading Stiles down to a science by now.

          “Hey,” Scott says, taking his non laser tag gun occupied hand and cupping Stile’s cheek with it.  “You alright?”

          “Yeah, ‘m fine Scotty.”  It doesn’t make much sense to be angry anymore, given that he’s the one Scott’s making the sympathetic bedroom eyes at, leaning in like he’s going to kiss him.

          “Good.”  Scott _does_ kiss him, swiping his tongue along Stiles’ bottom lip and tasting soda and mozzarella.  It’s one of those kisses that mean _something_ , a big something, a something that Stiles doesn’t have a term for but he knows exactly what it conveys.

          “What was that for?” Stiles asks, more breathless than before.

          “For good luck and because I enjoy kissing you a lot.” 

          If his heart were to ever rip in two, Stiles is sure that Scott McCall could put it back together with just one of those star bright smiles and a great big kiss.

          “You have my standing permission to keep doing that, you know.”

          “I knew that already.  Just that I wanted to let you know you’re the only one I kiss, alright?  And the only one I want to.”

          Stiles almost tears up and nods, hugging Scott hard and murmuring “sorry” into Scott’s neck.

          Scott hugs back and kisses Stiles hair and lets him know his words are nothing but truthful for a long moment, then squeezes his ass and whispers “mine.”

          Stiles forgets about his troubles just then very quickly and rubs himself against Scott.

          The moment’s ruined when Lydia grabs a hold of Scott and hauls him into the laser tag arena, murmuring something about dumb boys and needing to stop making moon eyes at each other.  She does have a point yes but Stiles deserves every sweet look that Scott has to give.

          Scott and Stiles try to play well, really they do – but it’s dark and hot and the music is loud, some new agey synthesizer heavy stuff that makes Scott’s bones vibrate.  Stiles also doesn’t help much by practically staying glued to Scott’s side, halfway because he’s legitimately afraid of their rivals popping out from behind a corner and because Scott’s just really, really huggable tonight, Scott not seeming to mind Stiles clinging in the least.

          Ten minutes in and they still haven’t found Allison and Lydia and the constant close proximity of his boyfriend is getting to be too much – so Stiles gives up on finding them and sneaks Scott into a corner where it’s dark and he hopes there aren’t any cameras.  Scott’s still trying to figure out what’s going on but then Stiles’ mouth is on his, the wall at his back and alright, this is actually pretty fucking awesome. Stiles reaches up and unclips Scott’s laser tag vest, letting it drop to the floor and putting his hands under Scott’s shirt, rubbing his chest and abs.  Scott feels his skin goosepimple in spite of the fact that it’s awfully hot in here and he can definitely hear other people – they have to be behind some sort of protection. 

          Right?  
          Stiles releases his hold on Scott’s mouth and pulls away, his pale skin almost glowing in the low light and he gets to his knees.  He doesn’t have time for Scott to blow him as well but Stiles is determined to get Scott off with his mouth, and with any luck their rivals will see them.  Well, he doesn’t actively want it but if Allison sees him with Scott making come faces as a result of _his_ efforts he’s not going to be that mad.

          “Stiles what – “

          “Trust me.”

          Scott shuts up and looks down at Stiles, his boyfriend quick about getting his cock out and taking him in his mouth right away.  Scott’s hard in about two seconds, holding up his jeans and underwear with one hand and placing the other on the back of Stiles’ head.  Stiles uses both hands on Scott’s dick, one tugging at his balls and the other pumping the shaft, a double play that has Scott’s knees going shaky awfully quick.

          “Stiles I…”

          “Just blow when you need too, I’ve got you.”  Stiles pulls forward on Scott’s cock and dips his tongue under his foreskin, circling its circumference slowly and Stiles tastes a heavy blurt of precome, scrambling to get his own cock out, stripping it rough and quick because this is gonna have to be quick – but that’s all part of the rush.

          The music stops for a moment while the song changes and Stiles hears Scott panting, Stiles sucking harder and Scott lets out a loud, long “fuck” and he comes, flooding Stiles’ mouth as he does.  It tastes salty and bitter and Stiles ends up spitting some of it back out, leaking onto the floor right as he blows his own load.  The ultraviolet light makes it show up bright against the dark carpet and it’s right as Stiles is pulling off of Scott’s dick that he hears his target get hit, Lydia whooping in victory until she realizes what she’s seeing.

          “Oh. My. God.”

          Scott goes from post orgasm hazy to guilty real fucking quick, Stiles still wiping come off of his lips and yep, there’s Lydia and Allison, looking at them like they’ve just committed some sort of horrible crime.

          Stiles gets up off the floor and tucks his cock back in his jeans.  “You don’t say anything if we let you get free shots.”

          “But you were – “

          “Scott let you do this to him?”  Allison looks confused and a little angry.

          “I did, yeah, um… Stiles can we go?”

          “Right behind you Scotty.”

          They’re out of there in a great big hurry and Stiles is starting to think this is becoming a little addicting, especially since Scott can hardly wait to lick the taste of himself from Stiles’ mouth in the parking lot.

          It’s by far the best date they’ve been on yet.

___

          Scott disappears on Sunday and Stiles starts to get worried, only to find out that Melissa decided they needed a bonding day and Scott didn’t get the chance to tell him – Stiles nearly wets himself with relief when Scott calls him right before he falls asleep.

          “You need to tell your very concerned boyfriend where you go before you just up and disappear like that.  I’m not constitutionally capable of handling that.”

          “Stiles, you’re fine, I promise.”

          “But it still worried me.”

          “And that’s adorable, seriously it is, but I promise that if something went wrong you would be the first person to know about it.”

          Stiles is silent for a moment.

          “That makes me feel a little better anyway.” 

Scott snuggles his pillow on the other end of the line, Stiles listening to Scott’s bed squeak as he shifts around.

“I don’t ever mean to do that, you know.”

“I get it Scotty, I promise.  I’m not your keeper or anything.”

“You kind of are.”

“Not _that_ much.”

“Scott, you are a strong, independent –“

“Boy who’s very glad to have a man.”

Scott hears Stiles blush and guffaw.  Because Stiles totally doesn’t blush silently.

“I’ll see you in the morning, babe.”

“Night Scott.”

Stiles grins like an idiot until he falls asleep.

___

Now that lacrosse is over Scott spends a lot more time after school at work, going in at least three days a week and working until closing.  Stiles is awfully bummed about it since Scott’s normally got homework and is normally dead on his feet by the time he gets off, thus rendering him incapable of much else aside from snuggling and falling asleep on Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles is starting to get randy and his hand can only make up for so much.

It’s the Thursday before they get out for Thanksgiving break and Scott’s last shift until the Monday after they get back and Stiles is fit to start humping things.  There’s not anything stopping him from going to the clinic but he knows exactly what’ll happen if he does – he’ll likely get Scott in trouble for keeping him from his duties.

All the same, he needs to touch Scott and for Scott to actually feel it.

Deaton’s car is gone when Stiles pulls in, just Scott’s motorcycle in the parking lot.

Stiles enters and Scott’s behind the desk, tapping away at the computer.  He looks up when he hears the door swing open, smiling when he sees who it is.

“Here to pick up a sick pet or just fraternize with the staff?”

Stiles leans over the counter and feels his heart melt when Scott swivels around to face him.  “Well I already have a lovestruck puppy but I don’t think he’s sick, per se.  So I guess it’s that second entertaining sounding thing.”

“A wise choice, then.”  Scott takes Stiles’ face in his hands and kisses him, far too chaste for Stiles’ taste and Scott pulls away before things get interesting.

“How much time do you have?”  Stiles tries not to sound desperate but Scott picks up on it anyway.

“Stiles, I’m not doing anything here.”

“Deaton’s gone.”

“He just went to get more cat food, he’ll be back in less than ten babe.”

“That’s all I need.”

“There are cameras, you know.”

“Not in Deaton’s office.”

“Stiles…”

“Dude, I’m dying here.  I don’t think you understand how bad it’s gotten.  Three times yesterday Scotty.”

“You told me.  Twice.”

“Just a quick handie?”

“No.”

“You don’t even have to do me, I just want to touch you.”

“You’re really hung up on this, aren’t you?”

“Exactly – on the fact that you’re hung and I want some of that.”  Stiles gestures to the front of Scott’s scrub pants.

“And I know you want it to, Scotty.  You don’t hide arousal well.”

“Because you provoke it.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Scott sighs, knowing that Stiles isn’t going to leave until _something_ happens.

“If nothing’s happened in two minutes then you leave.  I seriously can’t be caught here doing that.”

“It’s a deal.”

Deaton doesn’t leave his office locked in case Scott needs something from it and Stiles has never been more thankful for that in his life, tugging Scott inside and kissing him hungrily.  Scott, in spite of his protestations earlier, kisses back just as hard and it takes all of his will power to not get Stiles completely naked.  Instead he settles for unzipping his jeans and mostly carefully getting his dick out, Stiles tugging down Scott’s scrubs and taking both their cocks in hand.  Scott’s hot against his skin, groaning as Stiles’ hand moves shuttle like up and down their lengths.

“I know how to get us off really fast.”

“How?”

“Remember?”  Stiles backs up so that the tip of his cock is lined up with Scott’s.

“ _Oh_.”

Between the two of them Scott has the longer and looser foreskin, so Stiles pulls his all the way back as Scott rolls his forward, Stiles keeping himself steady as Scott’s flesh closes over him. It’s intense, something they don’t do very often because they never last any sort of time when they do – but it’s worth it, and more than Stiles has gotten in days now. 

“There?” Scott asks, stretched over Stiles as far as he can go.

“No complaints here, promise.”  Stiles looks down at them, trying not to lose it just from the sight of Scott’s tanned skin closed over his lighter tones.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?”  Scott nips Stiles’ jaw, causing him to jump a little.

“Yup.”  Stiles isn’t capable of more than one syllable responses at the moment and given the current situation he hopes Scott understands.

“Together” is the only warning Stiles gets before Scott attacks his mouth, his grip tight on them as he strokes, up and twisting in contrast to Stiles short, sharp movements nearer the head.  Practice has shown that’s what works the fastest, having clued the other in early on in their relationship that that was how they did it, Scott remembering the look of complete and utter fascination on Stiles’ face as he’d watched him get himself off – it had been _priceless._   Scott moans as memories of nascent sexual exploration flood his mind, Stiles whimpering because he was absolutely right, like this they aren’t going to last any sort of time.

What else makes this so powerful and strong is the fact that it’s something only they can do, just something to share with no one else and somewhere in the back of Stiles sex-addled mind he thinks _Scott could never do this with Allison_ and it makes it all the sweeter, knowing he needs to get rid of his ridiculous jealousy but it makes it so, so much better.  It comes out in a groan and Scott’s none the wiser but he does notice that Stiles’ motions get a lot more focused, intent on crossing the finish line as soon as possible.

The front door opens right as Scott comes, spunk leaking out from where they’re joined and the sudden smell and feel of it has Stiles shooting like a rocket, filling up Scott’s foreskin with come and they make a sticky mess on the floor between them, mouths sealed and Deaton must be looking over the paperwork Scott had filled out, not yet headed towards the office.  Scott lets go as soon as the aftershocks start, pushing Stiles off and pulling his pants up.

Stiles turns right as Deaton steps into his office and he finds Scott leaning against his desk, panting slightly and looking very red in the face.  Scott has his foot over the spot where come dripped on the floor, Stiles for his part looking like a deer facing down an eighteen wheeler.

“Gentleman,” Deaton says.  “What are or were you doing?”

“Just… shooting the breeze.”  Stiles has to say something to make sure all of his parts are still functioning.

“Catching up,” Scott offers.

“What smells like bleach?”  Deaton knows exactly what had transpired but hell if he’s going to let them know that.

“Um.”

Helpful answer, Stilinski.

“Stiles, get out and let Scott get back to work.”

Stiles is out of the clinic in three seconds.

“Scott?”

“It will never happen again.”

“It had better not.”

The come under his trainer nearly makes Scott lose his footing as he ducks out to find some paper towels.

 _Teenagers_ , Deaton mutters to himself.

___

For the last couple years Stiles has been waiting until the Saturday a week after Black Friday to do his Christmas shopping and it’s the only weekend out of the whole year he wakes up early completely of his own will.  It’s not even eight yet and he’s already halfway to Scott’s house, the sky heavy with almost winter clouds, forty degrees the projected high for the day, with a chance of snow later that evening.

Perfection, honestly.

Stiles unlocks the front door, Melissa already in scrubs and watching the late morning news as she finishes her coffee.  Stiles greets her with a breezy “Hey Melissa, Scott awake yet” and without waiting for a reply climbs the stairs.

Scott’s door is closed and Stiles opens it as quietly as possible.  It’s dark and warm in here, Scott’s little space heater chugging away in the corner, the curtains drawn tight against the chill and sun.  Stiles can just make out the top of Scott’s head from under the blankets, a soft spill of dark brown against his pillows.  Stiles crosses the room in a few soft steps, climbing in with Scott and nuzzling Scott’s temple.

Scott doesn’t even stir.

“Scotty,” Stiles sing-songs, “time to get up.”

“I’ll give you a blowjob if you wake up right now.”  Stiles is mostly serious, even if that is a little drastic.

Still nothing.

Stiles hates to do it but they’ve got places to be and presents to buy – so he shoves his cold hands under the blankets and lays them right on Scott’s ribs.

Scott awakes with a yelp, closing in on himself and rolling to the far side of his bed.

“Stiles, what the hell?”  Scott looks angry and yet Stiles can’t help but grin.

“I called you twice on the way over here.”

Scott grabs his cell phone from the bedside table, showing Stiles that he has it turned off.

“I was hoping you’d let me rest in peace.”

“Aw, come on Scotty – you really think I’d let that happen?”

Scott fixes him with a frown.  “You could have given me the option.”

“Not a chance.  Now come on, we got shit to do.”

Scott gets up from the warmth of his bed, his sleep pants riding low over the curve of his ass.  Stiles whistles, appreciating the view of his boyfriend’s naked back at the same time.  Scott flips him off, grabbing a clean pair of underwear from his open dresser drawer and heading to his bathroom.

“Can I shower with you?”

Scott closing – and locking – the door gives him his answer.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Stiles says to no one in particular.  He wonders if Melissa’s still mad at him and if not if she’ll share some coffee with him…

Fifteen minutes later Scott’s dressed and downstairs, his hair still damp and looking slightly less grumpy than when Stiles had awakened him.  Stiles gets up from the kitchen table, glomping himself to Scott’s front and squeezing him tight.

“You’re still in trouble.”  Scott hugs back, just enough to appease Stiles so that he’ll let go.

“Hey, I offered a blowjob.  You can’t say anything.”

“I can.”  Scott looks indignant, like a puppy who was having a perfectly nice time outside and then it started to rain.

“Come on Scotty, show some Christmas cheer!”

“It’s three weeks from now!”

“Which means by then you’ll be just as cheery as Frosty himself.”

Scott rolls his eyes and goes to the cabinet for a Pop Tart.

“Next time you could just let me sleep.  I was all for that plan.”

“See this is why I come up with the plans.  Yours are always terribly boring.”

“Yeah but they involve not being up at the crack of dawn on Saturday.”  Scott leans against the counter and yawns as he waits for his breakfast to pop out of the toaster.

“And next Saturday I promise not a soul will disturb you before you’re ready.”  Stiles walks over and puts his arms on Scott’s shoulders. “Unless we happen to be occupying the same bed come this time next week and I make it worth your while to be up before you want to be.”

“How do you mean?”  
          “Think about it Scott.”  Stiles waggles his eyebrows and grins lewdly.

“I’ll take it under consideration.”

Stiles thinks for a long moment.  “Good enough for me.  Now may I kiss you properly?”

Scott nods once and that’s all Stiles needs.

___

Christmas shopping means a trip to the mall a county over and despite the early hour there’s already a lot of traffic out and about.  Scott promptly falls asleep against the window of Stiles’ jeep, his hood drawn up against the cold in spite of the heat going full tilt.  Stiles has the radio turned down low to their favorite pop station, humming softly and keeping one hand on Scott’s knee.  It’s cozy and comfortable and even if Scott is asleep at least he’s here, Stiles doing his best to not just watch Scott sleep and keep an eye on the road.  It’s hard to do, especially since Scott’s nice to look at literally every waking second of the day.

Scott comes to when Stiles pulls in at the mall, out on the very edge of the parking lot because of course it’s mad busy.  Stiles grabs his bag full of used games to trade in for cash, hoping to supplant the thirty dollars the Sheriff gave him.  Scott climbs out, holding himself against the chill in the air.  Stiles takes the opportunity to embrace him, kissing him against the jeep to warm his lips up.

“Now we’re ready.”

“Was that a good luck kiss?”  
          “Kind of. That and a my boyfriend looks really cold kiss.”

Scott smiles for the first time all morning and it’s like a ray of sunshine parting darkened clouds.

“That’s what I wanted to see.”

Hand in hand they charge forward, ready to divide and conquer.  Stiles only has a couple places in mind, just somewhere to get a present for Scott, somewhere for his Dad, and somewhere for Melissa.  Of course there’s plenty of other things to do while they’re here but those are the priorities.  Scott doesn’t have much idea as to what to get, so he’ll see what Stiles does and then follow his lead.

They end up spending an hour at Game Stop in line, unwilling to give up their place as it’s long and Stiles doubts they’d be able to get it back should they step out.  Scott spends most of that time fending off Stiles being handsy, finally just taking his non bad occupied hand and holding it firmly.

“You know you’ll lose Stiles, so don’t even try.”  Scott sounds awfully confident and Stiles is very, very into that.

“That sounds like a challenge to me.”

“Just a fact, Stiles.”

Stiles does try to wring himself from Scott’s grip but to no avail and ends up with a semi rubbing against the inside of his underwear.

“You’re a bastard, Scott McCall.”

“At least I’m your bastard.”

“And everyone’s very, very glad for it.”

“And by everyone you mean…”

“Mostly just me?”

“Thought so.”

They’re quiet for a bit and Stiles gets an idea, seeing Victoria’s Secret across the way.  He almost tells himself no but then again it is Scott and it’s not like Stiles hasn’t thought about it before.  Maybe more than once. Okay, a lot.  But to present himself to Scott in something lacey and silky is just too much of a temptation to pass up and they are right here, after all. 

The thing is to distract Scott long enough so he can accomplish this particular mission – besides, it’s a way better present than the Star Wars t-shirt he was going to buy him.

“Can you hang out here for like ten minutes and not look for me?”  Stiles is already handing his bag of games off to Scott.

“I guess so – why, where are you going?”

“To buy your present.”

Scott regards him with a healthy amount of suspicion.

“Seriously, don’t look for me.  I promise I’ll be back soon.”

Scott nods.  “Alright.  But I’m not haggling like you did the last time we were here if you’re not back when I get up to the counter.”

“Deal.”  Stiles kisses Scott on the cheek and runs off.

Victoria’s Secret is way, way out of his budget but it’s Scott, who deserves the very best that Stiles has to offer.  He’s not as nervous as the thought he’d be but all the same it’s a little intimidating, all sorts of pretty girls browsing with either bored or aroused looking boyfriends – or girlfriends – in tow.  Stiles isn’t looking for anything complicated, just a pair of panties that he can rub up against Scott in.

“Stiles?” Stiles nearly jumps out of his skin when he turns around and there’s Erica, tall and blonde and… blonde. 

It also proves Stiles’ theory that she didn’t die, just moved.  Everyone else had been convinced for a week that she had killed herself.

“Hey, Erica. You look… you know…”

“Awesome?  I know.”  Erica’s smile is almost as radiant as Scott’s.

“So do you work here or what because if so I need your help.”

“I do.  What are you looking for.”  
          “Panties,” Stiles mumbles.

“Come again?”

“Panties.  For me to wear for Scott.”  Stiles feels his throat go dry.

“You know we don’t sell men’s underwear.”

“I’m aware – but I don’t have long so if you could help me out…”  Stiles does his best to look like it’s urgent.

“Alright, follow me.”  Stiles looks over his shoulder, Scott out of sight from where he’s standing – which hopefully means Scott can’t see him either. 

Erica shows him a discount rack, underthings of all sorts hanging from its silver rails.  “These are fairly generic but they’re still really nice – any idea what size you are?”  
          Stiles looks down at his body.  “Uh, thirty inch waist?”

Erica looks through the panties hanging to her left, quick and efficient.  She finally comes to a dark blue pair that Stiles kind of drools at.

“How about these?  Special price of twelve dollars and the last one we have.”

“I’ll take it.”  Stiles hands her fifteen to cover tax, takes the panties and says keep the change on the way out.  Scott’s right at the counter when Stiles slides up next to him, panties stuffed safely in one of his inside coat pockets.

“Just in time” Stiles says, kissing Scott on the cheek again. 

“I don’t see anything in your hands.”

“Just trust me on this one.”

Scott does and doesn’t at the same time – then again, it’d be odd if he didn’t.

They finish up shopping, Stiles getting thirty dollars for his games, wondering around the mall and finally settling on lunch at the Chinese place, sharing crab Rangoon and sesame chicken that Stiles will probably regret eating later but right now it’s pretty fucking awesome.

“Want to do the photobooth thing?,” Stiles asks around a piece of chicken.

“Why not?”  Scott’s in a far better mood now and Stiles is awfully glad for it – grumpy Scott isn’t his favorite thing in the world.

They have to wait a little to use it but once inside they make the most of their money, pulling every dumb face they have – until Stiles slides his hand over Scott’s thigh and squeezes.

“What’s up, Stiles?”

“Like you don’t know” and then Stiles kisses him, with an exorbitant amount of tongue as he cups and rubs Scott’s dick through his jeans.  Scott melts a little, doing the same to Stiles because he’s certainly going to give as good as he’s getting, camera snapping away the whole time.

Stiles is in a really awesome place right now and it gets even better when Scott unzips his jeans and slides his hand in, fingers curling around Stiles’ cock through the fly of his boxers.  Stiles squeaks when Scott rubs his thumb over the head of his dick, precome already leaking and making Scott’s skin sticky.

“Want to go mess around somewhere else?”

Stiles is surprised he has enough control of his mental faculties to nod.

They scoop up their pictures as they leave, doing their best to hide incessant boners as they descend on the escalator, Scott standing behind Stiles so that he’s pressed right up against his back and Stiles can feel him at the small of his back. 

This isn’t helping in the least.

It’s a contest to see who can drag the other out the fastest to the parking lot, shopping bags clutched tight in their hands that aren’t occupying each other’s.  Scott’s getting growly and grabby and Stiles is all about that, people passing by them in a blur.  It seems like it takes forever for them to get back to the jeep but soon enough there it is, a light dusting of snow over its blue paint.  Stiles opens the back and gets pushed in by Scott, nowhere near enough room to sprawl but Scott closes the door behind him and pins Stiles to the floor.

Stiles opens his legs as much as he can, head resting against the back of one seat as Scott grinds against him, coats and jeans definitely in the way and making things not happen anywhere near as fast as they should.  Stiles can hear cars moving around them, reminding him that they’re totally likely to be caught but that just makes him want it all the more.

Scott gets fed up with not touching Stiles naked skin and pulls his jeans and underwear down down, Stiles trying to not let his bare ass touch the cold floor of the jeep.

“Want to fuck your legs, babe.”  Scott looks wild, cheeks stained red with the cold and arousal that defies the temperature.  Scott grabs and rubs Stiles’ thighs, kneading them up and down as he moves his hips against the backs of them.

Stiles looks up at him, biting his lip and god, Scott looks so fucking hot like this, all turned on and desperate.  Scott normally keeps a grip on himself but this is a treat, no holds barred and Stiles is a little terrified but also insanely turned on.

Scott gets his cock out, pulling his jeans down his thighs so that he has just enough room to thrust his hips.

“Lube?”

Stiles finds the bottle he keeps stashed under the seat – it’s freezing cold but the liquid inside is still moving.

“Be careful, that stuff’s OHMYGODTHAT’S COLD.”  Scott’s not exactly careful about how he applies it to the inside of Stiles’ thighs, only pausing when he hears voices approaching and he lays down flat over Stiles, feeling like there are eyes on them and that there have been the whole time, really.  Then again, they’re not trying that hard to be quiet or discrete, hoping that the cold is enough to make people want to get inside quickly.

Stiles is mostly recovered from the shock of the cold lube against his skin and he pushes Scott up, telling him he’s ready and Scott keeps his legs tight together, one arm wrapped around his calves while he uses his other hand to rub over Stiles’ hole as he fucks in and out, in and out, Stiles’ smooth skin surprisingly easy to move against.  Stiles whines, using one hand to keep his coat and shirt rucked up, the other jacking himself off.  Scott watches the pink head of his boyfriend’s dick disappear in and out of his foreskin, moaning and fucking Stiles’ thighs even harder.

It’s not tight like Stiles’ hole but it’s still good and slippery, definitely enough to get him off.  Stiles does what he can to help the process along, his mouth open wide and tongue hanging out to catch whatever lands on it.  All it takes is seeing Stiles’ cotton pink mouth and he comes, shooting past Stiles head and hitting the back of the seat, the rest dousing Stiles’ face and body.  Scott’s sure he’ll catch hell for getting spunk on Stiles’ clothes but it certainly wouldn’t be the first time – occupational hazard, really.

Stiles comes at the same time as Scott, ending up soaked and bleachy smelling, panting and moaning as his orgasm rocks him, seeing the shadows of people moving outside the jeep, incredibly lucky that no one’s actually looking in; then again, it is an old car and not exactly worth giving a second look.

Clearly they haven’t seen Scott McCall’s naked ass.

Stiles pulls Scott down for a spunk sloppy kiss as soon as his brain resumes normal function, Scott moaning and licking Stiles’ mouth clean.  They don’t pull away from each other, swapping it back and forth on each other’s tongues, Scott crowded up between Stiles’ legs as much as their cramped conditions will allow him.

“Am I forgiven now?” Stiles asks after a while, Scott and he down to trading quick, soft kisses.

“Definitely.  Want to go home and watch Christmas cartoons?  I’m done with being outside and shit today.”

“Why Scotty, I thought you’d never ask.”

___

They can’t call it a Christmas dance, due to the religious connotations and politically correct bullshit but everyone refers to the Beacon Hills End of Semester Semi Formal as such, its official title way too cumbersome for most everybody to bother with.  Scott and Stiles have skipped out on it the last couple years, much preferring to spend their time away from school and their classmates and doing other fun stuff like making out on Scott’s couch between rounds of Halo and episodes of Dragonball Z.  This year Stiles changes his mind, deciding that they should go at least once, just to see how lame it is.

It’s not so lame when Stiles sees Scott in a suit, though.

Stiles is waiting at the bottom of Scott’s stairs, holding a mug of hot chocolate that he forgets about the moment Scott appears, looking absolutely stunning in a dark gray blazer and red tie that set off his brown eyes and dark complexion beautifully.  His hair’s artfully mussed too and Stiles’ back up career plan if Scott drops out of college and becomes a model is reinforced a thousand fold.

“Well, what do you think?”  Scott asks halfway down the stairs, beaming like a star-spangled winter night.

Stiles waits until Scott’s on the last step and then he grabs him, lifting him up and setting him down on the ground in front of him, Scott looking mildly alarmed at his sudden, short journey through the air.

“I think you look like you could have stepped out of GQ.”

“You know what GQ is?”  Scott’s teasing tone is just a little hurtful.

“Dad reads it – and am I nothing if not a gentleman Scotty?”

“I don’t think gentlemen do that thing with their tongues where oh hey Mom!”

Melissa has her camera, the same grin on her face that Scott gets when he’s ridiculously happy.  “You two look wonderful – now scooch together so I can get a picture.”

Scott kind of rolls his eyes but slings his arms around Stiles’ neck and at the same turns Stiles’ head so that his face lights up in surprise when he meets Scott’s eyes right as the flash goes off, a second picture following when Scott kisses Stiles right on the mouth, a third one taken when Scott takes one of Stiles’ hands in his as he dips him backwards, Golden Age Hollywood style.

Melissa kind of squeaks when Scott pulls Stiles back up and grins as big as the sun at him.

“That okay, mom?”  
          “Perfect, actually.  Now run along and have a good time and let this old lady have a night to herself.”  She hugs and kisses both of them, wiping away a tear as they leave hand in hand, coats buttoned up against the chill.

Stiles is still reeling from that silver screen worthy kiss and he hugs Scott tight as they walk to his jeep.

“What was that all about?”  Stiles has a giddy tremble in his voice and it makes Scott feel warm and gooey on the inside.

“Because I love you and was wondering if we would get at least one dance in before our wedding reception.”

Stiles stops dead in his tracks.

“W.. wedding reception?”

“Well, in a few years anyway.  Still have a lot to get through before that point but don’t you ever… you know… think about it?  Us?  Like that?”  
          Stiles, for once, is at a loss for words because he’s absolutely thought about that, probably at least once a day since eighth grade when he first saw Scott in a button down and tie for some sort of parent/student thing.  He doesn’t remember anything else except that it was the first time he thought about Scott like that.

It makes his stomach turn in a funny way and his heart hammer way too hard against the inside of his chest.

“I do Scotty.  Just… later, alright?  I’m…”

Scott saves him from tripping over his words with another kiss, murmuring “I’m ready for the ball, my prince” against Stiles’ lips and that helps absolutely _nothing._

Stiles doesn’t drive them off the road by some sort of cosmic luck, thinking about Scott and the future and Scott calling him his husband and a house and basically all of those things that Stiles only indulges in by himself with the lights turned off and the door locked because they terrify and exhilarate him at the same time.  This is definitely going to be explored in greater detail over winter break but for now Stiles shoves it to the back of his mind, instead focusing on Scott’s hand linked with his between them and a night of horrible but fun white boy dancing.

Not a soul is surprised when they show up together, hand in hand and Stiles automatically declares Scott to be the prettiest one in the room, in spite of the fact that everyone’s dressed to the nines and looking absolutely radiant.

“McCall, Stilinski – tickets please?”  Coach Finstock is running the coat check, managing to look almost presentable in a shirt and jacket.

“Yeah, right here.” Scott digs them from his coat pocket, slightly wrinkled but intact all the same.  Scott takes both he and Stiles’ jackets, handing them off and leading Stiles to the dance floor.

Instead of pop or rock the school went out of its way to hire a dance band, some upbeat and jazzy number that Stiles recognizes from somewhere playing as Scott takes his hand and leads him into the swaying mass of bodies.  It’s not at all what he expected but it fits, the notes and sounds just as wholesome and lovely as Scott.

“I’m glad we came, babe.  It’s nothing like what I was expecting.”  Neither of them is a great dancer but it doesn’t stop them from moving around like they know what they’re doing, in sync enough to not step on each other’s toes.

“It’s still just a high school dance, nothing to get _that_ excited over.” Stiles says it mostly out of reflex but Scott’s completely right – it’s classy, something that Stiles instantly decides there needs to be a lot more of in his life.

“Weren’t you the one who said I needed to have more Christmas cheer a couple weeks ago?”

“Maybe…”

“I rest my case, then.”  Scott leans forward and rests his head on Stiles’s shoulder, kissing it and hugging Stiles close.

They dance for six numbers straight, each one getting slower and slower until the lights are turned down low and a leggy brunette with a dark chocolate voice steps up to the microphone and starts to croon sweeter than sugarplums.

“I know this song,” Scott says halfway to himself.

“What’s it called?”

“Someone To Watch Over Me.  It came up on one of my study mixes a while back.”

“It’s really nice, Scotty.”

“I like it because it reminds me of you.”

Stiles listens to the words, _so I’m going to seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind, looking everywhere, haven't found him yet…_

“I think you already found me though – why does it remind you of me?”

“It’s just a nice song, you know?  And I think you’re nice.  Really, really nice?”  
          “Just nice?”  
          Scott kisses Stiles’ nose.  “More than just nice, but you get my point.”

_Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, to my heart he carries the key…_

Stiles gets this look in his eyes that says just as much as those words as they waft over the crowd, enveloping them like the softest of snowflakes.

“That’s my favorite line of the whole song.”  Scott whispers it against Stiles’ lips, a private message only for him.  Stiles takes the words with his mouth, kisses Scott through the end of the song and doesn’t stop until the applause dies down.

“For the record, most every girl thinks I’m handsome.”  Stiles’ voice cracks with emotion in spite of his attempt at bravado.

“But I’m the only one who gets to experience it up close and personal as much as I want.”

“I could change that if I wanted to, of course.”

“But you wouldn’t, would you?”

“Not for a damn thing, Scotty.”

They dance a couple more songs before Scott suggests a punch break, the refreshments table kept under a very strict watch by one of the Sheriff’s deputies.  He recognizes Stiles and glares at him, Scott not sure whom exactly it is but if they’re looking at Stiles like that it’s probably best that he grab their drinks.

Stiles is hanging out towards the end of the table away from the deputy, trying his best to act like he’s not being watched like a hawk.

“Friend of yours?”  Scott hands Stiles his punch and drains his own in one long gulp.

“Um… not exactly.”  Stiles looks back in his direction briefly before taking Scott by the waist and leading him towards the edge of the crowd.

“Do I even want to know?”

“In a word, I was twelve and dad had brought me to work that day and it’s a long story involving me maybe knocking some evidence out of his hands and I think that’s all we should share.”  Stiles leans in conspiratorially as he finishes the rest of his punch.

“But I do have something way, way better than that to show you.”

“What?”

“Your Christmas present.”  Stiles looks around, making sure his observant isn’t paying attention, and leads Scott off towards the bleachers.

They extend fairly far out into the gym floor and at the back are definitely tall and wide enough for people to squeeze through.  They aren’t the only ones who have decided to sneak back here for a moment or two alone, and hardly anyone else pays them any attention as Stiles leads Scott towards the middle.

“It’s kind of dark back here.”

“Not to worry – all I need you to do is feel.”  Stiles unbuckles his belt and stands back to where he’s not right up on Scott but definitely close enough to touch.  He slides his pants down to his ankles and takes Scott’s hands, placing them on his hips.

“Stiles are you wearing panties?”

“You’re so smart, Scott, good for you.”  Stiles leans forward and kisses Scott just then, all tongue and lips and slightly uncoordinated passion.  Scott groans, bunching his fingers in the silk and rubbing, dragging his fingernails along the space where Stiles’ thighs are encased tight.  Scott’s hard in less than ten seconds, caught off guard completely by Stiles and his wonderfully bold personality.

Of course, there’s also other people back here with them, dim light or not.

Stiles grabs hold of Scott’s hands and places them on his ass, grinding his hips against Scott’s.  Scott takes that as a sign and unzips himself, getting his cock out and giving it a couple strokes before Stiles takes over.

“There’s lube in my coat pocket, babe.  All you have to do is grease and go.”

“You’re already-“

“Open?  You bet I am.  This may have been like half the reason I even wanted to come tonight.”

“So you could seduce me with panties behind the dirty bleachers and just hope that no one looks and sees me balls deep inside you?”

“Well when you put it _like that_ …”

“Yeah, we’re definitely getting married one day.”  Before Stiles has the chance to respond properly Scott spins him around and takes his panties down just enough to where Stiles’ ass is on display for anyone and everyone who looks in their direction – and people definitely are.  Danny and Jackson (whom Scott is only a little surprised to see groping each other) are watching, not able to see everything in the dark but certainly enough.

“We have an audience” Scott purrs, finding the lube in Stiles’ coat and extracting it.

“Good – show ‘em how we do it Scotty, and make sure they get their money’s worth.”

Scott pulls a condom from his wallet before he puts on lube, rolling it down his dick as he rubs Stiles’ hole and sure enough, Stiles is already wet back there.  Scott’s fingers are still a little cold and it makes Stiles shiver but for what’s about to happen it’s an infinitesimally discomfort to handle.  All the same, Scott slips in two fingers and stretches Stiles a bit anyway, just in case.  Stiles grabs onto the metal that holds the bleachers up, dipping his head and licking his lips in anticipation. 

Stiles is mostly ready for the feeling of Scott pushing into him but he’s tightened up from before so it burns a little more than it should as Scott buries himself to the hilt, Stiles’ mouth held open in a sort of ecstatic rictus, Scott’s hands holding on tight to his hips so that he can keep some semblance of balance.  Scott looks over at Danny and Jackson, both of them rubbing themselves through their pants with increasing interest.

“Go ahead and get comfortable guys, it’s not like we haven’t seen ‘em before.  Stiles and I don’t mind, do we?”

Stiles just shakes his head and clenches himself around Scott, silent encouragement that he needs to move _now._

Scott heeds the advice, strange as the method of its deliverance is, drawing out halfway before pushing back in really slow, opening Stiles up around the thickest part of his cock.  Stiles moans, shoulders hitching up because that’s just plain mean, his cock still trapped in the front of the panties and not at all benefiting from its tight, albeit silky, confines.

“Let me help you, babe.”  Scott removes his hand from Stiles’ right hip and takes Stiles’ dick in hand, stroking in time with his thrusts.  Danny’s hard now, cut cock sticking up from his open fly, Scott noticing how his method of getting himself off isn’t entirely different from his own.  Scott mimics it on Stiles, the sound of their flesh going smack, smack, smack not quite loud enough to be heard over the music playing on the other side.

“God, Scotty, keep doing that.”  Stiles doesn’t demand much but he feels like that’s one that can be made comfortably, noticing that Jackson’s stroking and watching the two of them with more interest than he’s shown towards them in the entire time they’ve all known each other.

Just goes to show that pretty much anyone will watch quality porn, especially when it’s a live show five feet away.

Scott pulls all the way out and then drives deep, does it three more times and it has Stiles moaning, losing his self-control with each passing second because that’s a finishing move if there ever was one, Scott hitting his sweet spot hard and relentless.

The music starts to wind down and Scott overhears something about the last song about to be played (they didn’t exactly arrive when the party first got started) and it’s time to wrap this up.  Scott takes his hands from Stiles’ hips and laces his fingers with Stiles’ where they’re holding onto grimy supports, shifting his weight up so that Stiles arches his back downwards. 

That’s when Scott sinks his teeth into Stiles’ neck and _growls._

Stiles comes so hard and fast that he doesn’t realize what’s happening for a full second, cock pulsing untouched, spunk spattering all over the dirty floor in front of him.  It’s about that time that both Danny and Jackson burst as well, kissing each other while still watching the private show in front of them, the thrill of having been seen making Scott come hot on the heels of Stiles’ climax, teeth impressing even harder on Stiles’ skin as he does.  He doesn’t let go until both he and Stiles are finished, Danny and Jackson having not stuck around to watch the very end.

“Stiles, you okay?”  Scott pulls out gingerly and pulls Stiles’ panties up, rearranging him as best he can.

          “Uh huh.”  Stiles sounds like he left his own body and is currently trying to fit the correct things in the correct sockets and holes.

          Scott rubs over the spot where he bit Stiles.  “Sorry about that, by the way.”

          Stiles turns around as he finishes pulling his pants up, swallowing against the dryness in his throat.  “Dude, don’t be.  I don’t think you know just how hard I came – I was seeing heaven there for a moment, or at least something really, really bright.  I don’t know, there was a guy in a beard and a robe and he wanted me to go with him.”

          Scott doesn’t look that impressed.  “Are you finished?”

          Stiles re-notches his belt and readjusts his coat.  “I am now.  You?”

          “Never better.”  Scott takes Stiles’ cheeks in his hands and kisses him, as long and sweet and tender as the bite he gave Stiles was intense.

          By the time they leave half an hour later, Stiles’ cheeks are red for an entirely different reason and on the way to the jeep he hugs the cause as tight as he can.

          Scott hugs him back and kisses Stiles right as the snow starts to fall and reflect the starlight back into the sky again.


End file.
